[CHAPTER XII.]
YOUTHFUL MASTERS.
When Ignatius of Loyola was governing the Society, the multiplicity of affairs which he had to administer, and the absorption of mind which they demanded, did not prevent him from devoting to every minute element the attention which it specially invited. Hence he required the young Scholastics, who were reviewing their literary studies at Valencia, to send him their orations and a poem. So, too, with the Masters of the lower classes at Messina, in Sicily. This college had opened with the higher courses of letters; but the very next year such numerous throngs of younger boys came asking for admission, that the system, begun with Rhetoric and Humanities, was carried down to meet their needs; and the entire course was distributed into five grades. Ignatius required the teachers of these lower grades, no less than those of the higher, to write each week, and send him an account of the affairs of his class.[182]
It is indeed an eventful moment, when a man becomes a teacher of others. They may be boys. But, whether they are boys merely blossoming into life, or youths on the verge of manhood, the teacher of them has to be a teacher of men; and perhaps more so with the boy than with the man, inasmuch as his control of the younger student has to be so much the more complete. It is not merely such a control as will address the intellects of men mature, whose characters are already far advanced in the way of formation, or are perhaps fixed for life; but it must be such as will form a whole human nature, which is still pliable and docile.
As an almost universal rule, the Jesuit Scholastic, after his course of Philosophy, takes his place in a college to teach Grammar or Literature. If it be asked, why should this be an almost universal rule, several reasons are at hand. In the first place, the candidate for admission into the Order has been accepted with special reference to this work. If this reference was expressly overlooked, the candidate so admitted is in an exceptional category. In the second place, the whole tenor of what has to be said in the present chapter will show the pedagogical policy in the arrangement. But, in the third place, not to pass over too summarily one special fitness, I will say a few words upon it at once.
The manner of teaching the young is oral and tutorial. All through the Jesuit System the manner followed is oral: in the examinations of the lower classes, where writing is admitted, it is only as a specimen of style and composition that writing enters the examination exercises. With the younger students, the manner of teaching is oral in its most specific sense. It is not that generic quality which will suit as well the lecturer or the public speaker. But it is the tutorial manner, which includes a fund of sympathy, of that tact which supposes sympathy, of such a superiority, both moral and intellectual, as knows how to stoop, and elevate the boy by stooping, and does it all naturally, instinctively, gracefully. In the ordinary course of human affairs, this magnetic power of the teacher is more intense, according as in years he is nearer to the subject on whom his ascendancy plays, and by whom it is spontaneously admitted. I mean that inestimable and precious subject, the mind and heart of the impressionable boy, who is about to develop into manhood, first young, and then mature.
The youthful subject is rich, though not in positive acquisitions already made its own; for, in this respect, it may rather be considered parum fructuosa, as Sacchini says; that is, bearing little fruit as yet, either of judgment or positive acquirements. But it is rich in its promise, as it struggles upward into the sunshine of varied and beautiful truth. This is the fact which imposes upon liberal education the duty of omitting nothing that is either beautiful or polished, in imagination, thought, or style. It justifies Belles Lettres and the most finished course of Literature, as being the chosen garden of flowers and fruit, to entertain withal, richly and exquisitely, the youthful promise of mind, sentiment, and heart.
Or, inverting the figure, if we liken the mind itself in youth to the choice and prolific soil of a garden, we may note that, to till such soil, there is need of a gardener who has a delicate hand and a light touch. He must not be a lecturer who stands off, nor a speaker who declaims, nor a text-book monger who reads, and hears recitations of what a book says; nor is he to dole out methods and analyses to an inquisitive sense and emotional fancy, which, in the youthful soul, are the temporary vesture of an unfolding intellect; even, as in nature around, things tangible and palpable are bursting, to the boy's inquisitive eyes, with the great intellectual truths which they contain. Analyses, text-books, lectures are not the powers with the young mind. But, often enough, we see where the real power lies; when young men, scarcely as yet approaching the prime of life, exercise over impressionable and brilliant youths, not much beneath themselves in age, such a personal influence as bids fair to rank them among the greater forces of human nature—forces which are great in leading, because they know so well how to follow. That other form of ascendancy, more purely intellectual, and originating in wide learning and maturity of scholarship, belongs to the University Professor of a later stage of life. Hence it appears that youthfulness in the Master is an advantage for the tutorial teaching of the young.
The critics who drew up the preliminary Ratio in 1586 were of opinion that the Masters in the literary courses should be assigned to their work, not after their course of Philosophy, but before.[183] They would except from this arrangement only the Professor of Rhetoric; perhaps, also, in the chief colleges, the Professor of Humanity or Poetry; besides, of course, those "whose age or deportment shows that they are too young to become Masters as yet, or too far advanced in years to be kept back from their Philosophy." In support of this view, they urge several reasons, which do not much concern us here; as, for instance, that, if young men have once tasted of the subtleties of the philosophers, they can hardly bring themselves to take pleasure any more in the insipid subject-matter of Grammar; they will pore over philosophical lore; they will branch off, during class, into philosophical digressions, which may serve for show, but not for utility. The critics also express a fear that these philosophers will bring into the school-room a style of language infected with philosophical terms; and they quote the eminent Jesuit, Annibal Codret, to the effect that, if Philosophy has been tasted beforehand, nothing brilliant in literary style can subsequently be guaranteed. But, these arguments notwithstanding, the Society, when it came to sanction a final arrangement, in the legislative document of 1599, seems to have entertained a higher idea of the younger members, and of their ability and resolution to shake off any deleterious effects of scholastic Latin, when they advanced to the chair of purest Latinity. Hence the legislation ordains that Philosophy is to be studied before undertaking to teach Letters.[184]
There are several reasons, however, which, as urged by these critics, are quite relevant to our present topic. They urge that Grammar studies require a certain fervor, or alacrity, which is rather to be found in persons who are younger, and so far are nearer to the thoughts and sentiments of boyhood. The fuller results of education, in this respect, are not to be had from them when older. If authority or experience is felt to be wanting, it can readily be supplemented by the Prefect of Studies, who is constantly in attendance on the classes of Grammar; and his direction finds a sufficient response in the teacher's aptitude and docility. Indeed, docility to counsel is so indispensable a requisite, on the part of young teachers, that the General Mutius Vitelleschi observes: "If they were to show themselves impatient of correction, and were to refuse the necessary aids for becoming efficient, they should on all accounts be removed from teaching, even if they had filled only half a year; since it is more just and expedient that one suffer shame, than that many be injured."[185]
Unless singular talents, or the bare force of circumstance, recommend another course of action, it is not desirable that new teachers should at once become Masters of the higher class of Grammar or of Humanity, though otherwise not unfit for these grades. On all accounts, say the critics, the rule should be that they start with the lowest classes, and then, year after year, advance to the next higher grade, with the best part of their scholars. A certain crudeness and inexperience which, at the beginning, are unavoidable in their management, will cause, as long as it lasts, not so much evil with the younger as with the older students. Inexperience wears away with practice. Then again, if the Masters go up each year, and the scholars go with them, the same students are very much with the same teachers. The young people have not to pass so often from one kind of management to another. Frequent change entails a waste of time, until each party comes to know the other, and understand his own as well as the other's part.[186] In 1583, Father Oliver Manare, visiting the German Provinces by the General's authority, had noticed this point, in his ordinance for the management of convictus, or boarding colleges; that "frequent changes were burdensome to the students themselves, because they were forced to accommodate themselves often to new teachers or prefects."[187]